


Time Management

by tommysmutnothingbut



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Dom! Tommy Shelby, Dom/sub, F/M, Rough Sex, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 04:45:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17277311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommysmutnothingbut/pseuds/tommysmutnothingbut
Summary: Unconventional clock-watching, spanking, wet stockings, gossip, knowing you fucked up but irrationally wanting people to feel bad for you anyway, Dommy Tommy ™





	Time Management

Swearing to yourself in an endless stream of vulgarity, you hurried through the falling snow that’d just begun, the road precariously slippery beneath you. The streets were empty, the sun already having fallen, and you were the only one out at this hour. You were glad for it, no one to hear your swears or see your frantic little steps as you moved onto the toes of your high heels and moved as fast as your balance could afford. The strange quiet silence that always fell with the snow made you feel all the more spotlighted, noticeable, out after hours.

Late.

The office came into view and you raised both the speed and the volume of your swearing, each foul word falling in time with your quick steps. Every building looked dark compared to Tommy’s office, its lamps bright and beckoning. Waiting for you.

Only for a second did you hesitate when you reached the heavy front door, ungloved hand shaking just above the brass handle. Even though your fingers were pink with cold - and you were sure you had a nose and cheeks to match - you thought nothing of it as you took a pause, swearing one more time and stepping inside.

You were grateful Tommy was in the Digbeth office and not the warehouse, the warmth of the wood tones matching the temperature, a blast of dry heat greeting your numb extremities and watering eyes. Staying on your toes, you and your snow-soaked shoes hurried across the polished floor to Tommy’s office, even though you knew what waited for you beyond the shut doors.

Nearly all the lamps had been turned as close as they could be to off while still providing light, the feel of Tommy’s office different than the warehouse. You could almost call it cozy, but something you couldn’t place stopped it short of that; warm and inviting in appearance, but with a razor-sharp element lurking beneath, a constant reminder to anyone that they were in a Shelby’s territory. Tommy’s shadow moved around within, the fire within roaring from what you could tell, shades of gold catching onto the frosted glass of his doors and breaking into glimmering shards. The white of Tommy’s sleeves stood out starkly, and you could trace the movement of his bare forearms pouring a glass of whiskey. You watched him throw the whiskey back, not knowing if it would worsen or better his mood, only knowing he’d drink it eventually either way, and not even all the whiskey in the world would be able to wind the clock backwards.

Nerves shattered your routine and you rapped your knuckles gently on the blurred glass before entering, usually one to barge right in. No matter the hour or the mood Tommy always had a smile for you, happy to listen to each new detail you’d added to the wedding, or to watch you curl up on one of his smooth leather couches to read.

Walking in carefully, you clicked the door shut and let yourself swoon, your eyes always starving for Tommy. Not at all impatient looking, Tommy stood with muscled frame and no tie, hair mussed and glasses nowhere in sight. Sleeves rolled tight below his elbow made his veins jut smoothly against the soft skin of his forearms, and the sight made you shift your weight. Waiting for him to look in your direction, you spent the time admiring his profile. Somehow managing to look boyish and innocent while sharing space with such devilish bones, you still marvelled each and every day that Tommy was yours to touch, that a face that told such tales of angels and fire could spread into smiles that were just for you. 

Unsure of how long Tommy would make you stand in the doorway, you shifted in your increasingly uncomfortable shoes, making sure to ruffle the papers just enough, letting Tommy know that you were well aware of your lateness. He acknowledged nothing at first, pouring himself another whiskey as if you weren’t there. As you waited you practiced the wording of your excuse: it was a busier day at the shop than usual, the truth; you and Pol had gotten caught up talking, a less excusable truth; you’d forgotten about the reports for Tommy until there was only half an hour left before he’d expected them, a truth you figured you should keep to yourself. If possible.

“You’re late.”

Every movement of his lips could have lit you on fire, even if Tommy had yet to look at you. He lit a cigarette, the engraved initials on his lighter catching the light from the fireplace, the box of metal looking molten with the flames dancing across it. Smoke blew from his mouth in an impatient huff, and you realized he was waiting for a response.

“Yes,” you said automatically, still out of breath and shivering, “I’m late.”

Tommy must have sensed the obvious, head swiveling towards you.

“You’re cold,” he said, nearly a question, brows furrowed, dark arches above his light eyes that travelled from your snow-dusted hat to your wet shoes, splotches of melted snow soaking your stockings, having been kicked-up from your hurried steps.

“It’s - it started snowing,” you said as meekly as you could between your chattering teeth, hoping your answer sounded more like a fact than a sarcastic retort. As the adrenaline from your snow-soaked run wore off, you realized just how correct Tommy actually was, your teeth chattering in your skull and the wetness on your stockings freezing the skin beneath.

“Put them down,” he ordered, and you knew he meant the completed - albeit tardy - expense reports, so you tried to find a place to put them while Tommy put out his barely-smoked cigarette, tucking them at last in between two books upon his crowded shelves, as if you hoped they’d be forgotten.

Tommy took your icy hands in his warm ones, breathing on them and squeezing before gripping your shoulders, walking you towards the fire, slipping your coat from your shoulders and rubbing your arms, the long sleeves your silk dress blessedly dry.

Wordlessly, Tommy kissed the chilled blush of your cheeks before disappearing somewhere behind you, the clinking of a glass following after his footsteps. Forgetting about your untimely mistake, you shut your eyes and let a shiver tear through you, the heat of the well-fed fire chasing the cold out.

The scent of whiskey accompanied Tommy as he returned, and the two of them mixed together in the way you loved, cologne and soap with a burning spice that blurred the lines of where he stopped and began. You barely turned at the sound of him returning before the crystal glass was in front of your face and you took it without hesitation, Tommy’s care making you forget about why you were cold in the first place.

“Better?” Tommy asked, rubbing your arms again before sliding an arm over your chest and pulling you into him tightly.

Waiting until the whiskey had flooded you with warmth, you nodded in response, “Yes.”

Tommy pressed his lips delicately to where your neck met your shoulder before straightening, wrapping his calloused hand around your soft one and bringing the tumbler to your lips with a husky murmur, “One more sip.”

You let go of the glass, gripping Tommy’s bare forearm where it lay across your collarbones and let him tilt your head back, the edge of the glass cool upon your lips until the whiskey passed over it, fire sliding down your throat and into your chest where its warmth could bloom further. Laying your head back against Tommy, settling it where it fit so perfectly into the crook of his neck, you hummed in thanks.

“Warm now, princess?”

“Mm,” you mused, the whiskey and fire doing their jobs well. “Very.”

“That’s good,” Tommy half turned to toss the glass on the couch, bringing you with him briefly before rocking you back in front of the fire, his other arm now snaking beneath your breasts. “So tell me, my little love, what do I hate the most?”

Even though you stiffened under Tommy’s arms while ice once more spread through your veins, he kept rocking you back and forth, his chin on top your head, staring into the fire. You had never had such a lack of desire to answer something, but knowing better made up for it.

“Lateness,” you said, a poorly timed exhale of anxious breath making your words sound as weak as they felt.

Tommy’s serious nods moved your head too, his grunt of agreement vibrating against your shoulder blades. “That’s right. So tell me -” Tommy easily spun you in his arms, bringing you to face him at last, the cool hue of his eyes a welcome cold against the heat from the fireplace that had begun to feel scorching against your face, “why were we late?”

Although he was serious about his vexations and annoyances, the glint in Tommy’s eyes still held some amusement, even if that amusement was sharpened into a blade by his ill-favored habits of yours. “You would never be tardy without a reason, would you?”

So badly you wanted to agree with him, to say no, to offer up a dramatic and intricate excuse. But there wasn’t one that was true, the real reason for keeping Tommy at the office nearly an hour late being nothing more than forgetfulness and gossip with his aunt.

Tommy loved to watch you squirm, already knowing you had no excuse but still waiting to see if you would try to save yourself. Squirm you did, shifting under his scrutinous gaze, having no time to carefully word your answer.

As you mentally struggled to prepare your words, your body did nothing to help you, succumbing to the cold once more now that you were turned away from the fire. Your toes were miserable pieces of ice, still wet beneath the silk of your stockings, and you curled them in your shoes.

“Tommy?”

Nothing but silence for a response, waiting for you to continue.

“My feet are cold.”

Tommy blinked rapidly, the first flash of irritation he’d let slip, but his concern beat it down quickly, brows furrowing again, the jarring blue of his eyes disappearing as he knelt at your feet. Gently undoing the straps of your shoes, he carefully lifted your feet from them and rubbed their soles before setting them on the carpet. Deft fingers slid up the insides and backs of your thighs, undoing your garters better than you did.

“Did you forget that I asked you a question?” Tommy asked, tone not matching his gentle movements as he rolled your left stocking down, taking care that you were balanced before he lifted your foot, the wet silk unsticking from your skin.

“Well I had to go see the florist in the morning,” you said, wasting time telling Tommy facts he already knew, “for the wedding.”

“I’m losing patience, princess.”

“Alright,” you replied quickly, pressing the heel of your palm to your temple, your other hand curling into the shoulder of Tommy’s vest, “By the time I got in it was busy, and I didn’t expect it, and Polly was talking to me about something, and then-”

Ignoring your lengthy explanation, Tommy straightened, done with your stockings and starting on the buttons on the back of your dress. You barely noticed his undressing, babbling on until the fire hitting the bare curve of your back stopped you short.

Rant halted, you waited nervously, your doe-eyes locking with Tommy’s unimpressed ones as he pushed your dress from your shoulders. It slid off with no further assistance, pooling at your bare feet.

“Is it Polly who had to get here on time?” Tommy looked down at you.

“No, but -”

“But what, Y/N?” Tommy asked, unhooking your bra and tossing it somewhere beside you before throwing you over his shoulder, ignoring your squeals and kicking feet as he walked you towards his desk, his voice rolling from deep in his chest, “Do tell me, what was so distracting?”

Without waiting for answer Tommy slid you off his shoulder and onto the edge of his desk, gripping your cheeks with one hand as the other spread your legs, your gasp slight but unstoppable at the feeling of Tommy pressing a thumb against your lingerie, rubbing it in a circle as lulling as his voice that began to drag you away from your excuses.

“Was it busy today? Stressful?” Tommy asked quietly, his lips pressing into your cheeks as softly as a feather. “Everyone forgets things, princess, did you forget?”

Some part of you knew better, but you were helpless under Tommy’s touch and his voice, the gentle brush of his nose against your jawline, and any sense you had slipped away. Your pussy tightened and pulsed in effort to coax Tommy’s fingers to it, and you helplessly weakened into the rhythm he traced against your clit.

“Yes,” you whimpered quietly, lower lip beginning to tremble in need.

Distracted, you didn’t feel the flicker of Tommy’s smirk against your neck, “Yes, what?”

“I forgot,” you breathed as his pace sped, your hips rolling slightly. “I forgot they were due - due today.”

Tommy ignored the whines you foolishly let slip when he pulled his touch from you, wordlessly sliding a hand to your throat and placing his thumb on your pulse, his low hum of satisfaction finally breaking your trance. Before you had a chance to damn your gullibility or beg for mercy your vision spun, Tommy yanking you off the desk before sitting there himself. Easily tossing you onto his lap, your ass was in the air and your face was held to the desk before you could blink, Tommy’s broad hand spreading across your cheek and holding your head still, the rest of your body wriggling.

“That’s what I thought,” Tommy said quietly, more to himself than you, watching your ass wiggle in effort to escape his lap against the hand that held you there, his thumb tracing the line of where your lingerie cut into your skin.

Panting under his hand, you failed to accept your fate and struggled beneath his grip, “It was an accident, Tommy, I promise.”

Tommy said nothing, still running his hand over your ass and flirting with the lines of your silk and lace, tugging them gently as if to pull them down your thighs before letting them go, allowing your hips to churn as he waited for you to tire yourself out. The hand that held your face to the desk rendered you helpless and prevented you from throwing any pouting looks in his direction, and with a pleading whimper you slowed your struggle. Only when you were sufficiently subdued did Tommy turn to get something behind him, and from where you lay pressed to the desk you could see the angles of his face kissed by the firelight, shadows pooling beneath them, your eyes tearing away only when Tommy found what he was looking for, his hand slowly sliding it across the dark wood until it sat directly in your vision.

A gilded clock, gold and shining, sat before you expectantly. Each ornate facet of its twists and twirls moved as the flames danced across it, the leaves looking like they were being blown by hell’s winds. Even its cream face looked ominous, burnt orange and red, mocking you with harsh, black lines that informed you of the time.

“Now,” Tommy said smoothly, “what time does that say?”

Nerves only slowed your muddled, sideways-reading of the Roman numerals, and Tommy’s hand was quick to fall upon your ass sharply, his rings a cold bite against your flesh even through the thin fabric covering your skin.

“I said, what does it say?” Tommy said evenly, and you didn’t dare look towards the agitation you felt flashing in his eyes.

“Seven thirty-six - ” you gasped, “ - seven thirty-six. Tommy I’m sorry, I just - time got away from me, it was busy and then - ”

Tommy drowned out your excuses with his shushing and tutting, but it was the hand he slid between your legs that silenced them completely. Only as his rough fingers rubbed up and down your pussy did you realize he’d pushed your knickers to the side, the air against your wetness running a chill up your spine.

“Soaking wet, too,” Tommy lilted, considering you and stroking you slowly. “Naughty thing. I don’t think anyone who says they’re sorry and means it can be this wet after saying it, do you?”

Tommy slipped a finger inside of you with ease, his slow teases in and out of your dripping tightness stealing the air from your lungs.

“I’m sorry, Tommy,” you gasped breathlessly, “I didn’t think -”

“No, no you didn’t,” Tommy said, his voice poetic with how soothing it was, purring to you as if his words referred to something other than your damning mistakes, “So, I think it’s the perfect time for a lesson in punctuality, wouldn’t you say princess?”

Tommy slid your lingerie from you, dragging it down your thighs and ordering you to bend your knees so he could unsnag it from around your ankles. Before you could register it Tommy had brought your hands away from the desk and to the small of your back, wrapping the silk and lace around your wrists and deftly tying it, an iron grip now holding them together.

Anticipation would have been shaking in your hands if Tommy hadn’t tied them, and as you struggled against the lingerie that held them so still, you wondered how Tommy was always able to rip them from you so easily, because against your struggles they had no give at all, may as well having been made of steel. Tommy ran his hands up and down you lazily, trailing between your legs and up your sides, walking them up and down your ribs before bringing them back to your ass, caressing the curve of you.

“How many minutes did you make me wait?”

Dread settled in your stomach, but you knew better than to lie.

“Thirty?” you guessed with a squeak, damning yourself for each one of those minutes. You wiggled with nervousness in Tommy’s lap, looking up at him the best you could and throwing your most apologetic look in one last attempt at forgiveness, “I’m sorry, Tommy,” you murmured, pouting out your lips to the fullness that nearly always made him cave, or at least show mercy, “please.”

Tommy looked at you softly but shook his head with an unforgiving slowness, his words soft and smooth but dark with the unholy intention and wicked promise that dripped from each one.

“Look at the clock. And don’t make a sound.”

Tommy pressed his hand to your face again, and you reluctantly dragged your eyes back to the clock. But it was automatic habit, your utterance after Tommy’s hand fell upon your skin with a lighter smack than the ones to come, your breaths still coming even with the low number, “One.”

“What did I say?” Tommy hissed, hand cracking into the skin of your ass heavily, no doubt leaving its first reddened hand print. Air rushed from your chest and you cursed yourself silently, pain pounding through your blood but settling hotly between your legs, the pleasure soothing the sting. False-gentleness laced in his tone, Tommy released your face to push two fingers between your mouth, sliding in until you gagged on them, and he ignored your sputters, pulling them back just enough to keep you quiet but close enough to punish you again if he wanted to. “I don’t want to hear you, Y/N, and you don’t need to count. You just keep those pretty fucking eyes of yours on that clock.”

Tommy’s accent had grown thicker with ire and impatience, and after an apologetic fluttering of your eyelashes, you hollowed your cheeks around his calloused fingers and dropped your eyes from his glare with surrender. The clock ticked slowly and mockingly but you stared back at it, watching the flames flicker across its face, each second pulsing between your legs.

But not even the heat that soaked the inside of your thighs could distract you from Tommy’s lesson of timekeeping, each crack of his hand shooting a wince to your face and deepening the arch of your back. Not counting was just as much torture, mind cloudy with pleasured pain and senseless when it came to how many strikes you’d been dosed with, or how many you had left.

Tommy growled at the sight of your reddening ass, and you felt his cock grow hard beneath you, your clit pressing against it every time you shifted, The inevitable lurch of your hips after Tommy’s hand fell rubbed your swollen clit deliciously against the rough wool of Tommy’s pants, the marble hardness of his length soothing the bite of pain, an instant reward for every spank.

But soon even that wasn’t enough, and as Tommy struck you again and again, words of filth and more than enough chiding falling from his full lips, it became harder and harder to hold in your whines. Slow, fast, and then slow again, Tommy moved from cheek to cheek, mottling your skin with handprints, spanking your skin raw. No matter how wet you knew you were, and no matter how carnally pleased you were with your punishment, it was a punishment nonetheless, tears beginning to bead in your lashes as the clock ticked on.

You resisted looking away from the clock, or making a forbidden sound, but both became impossible as Tommy knowingly granted you a break - from pain, at least - sliding his fingers inside of you with no warning. But you still stayed quiet, sucking on Tommy’s fingers with every ounce of you that wanted to cry out, done with breaking rules for the day.

“Good girl,” Tommy hummed, swearing at your wetness and shifting you in his lap, his hardness pushing against his pants tightly. He pumped his fingers in and out of you, swearing again before pulling them from you and wiping their wetness on your reddened ass, smirking at your wince as even his lightest touch stung the burning nerves beneath. “Look at me.”

Eagerly with heavy breaths through your nose, you did, running your tongue silently along the rough tips of Tommy’s fingers. He was the picture of lust, eyes half-lidded and simmering at the sight of you, the slightest dew of sweat glowing at his temples from his efforts.

“We’re almost done, so tell me, Y/N, are you learning your lesson?” sliding his fingers out of your mouth with a slick pop, Tommy gave you the slightest nod and in that, permission to answer.

“Yes,” you nodded, voice breaking with misuse as well as your desperate sincerity, “yes.”

“Good. No more forgetting from now on?”

From your tensely curled toes to the damp sweat between the desk and your cheek, from the smarting crimson handprints on your backside to the mascara tears that gravity had dragged across the bridge of your pert nose, every inch of you was laced with sincerity, “No, I promise.”

Tommy nodded, watching your lashes flutter and your tongue run across your lips to wet them. “Good. Now, you have ten more minutes to account for, and you can make all the noise you want. Alright?”

Although disguised as a reward, you knew exactly what that allowance meant. But soaking wet and willing, you nodded your head and arched your back so your ass brushed against Tommy’s waiting palm, your spine straightening in wait at the instant sting that slight movement produced.

Tommy circled your clit with his soaked fingers until he drew a whimper from you, your ass driving higher yet. But the smack that followed with his other hand brought out far more than a mewl of pleasure, the searing heat of it tearing up your spine and out between your lips. At this rate the bruises from Tommy’s rings would be dark on your skin until after the snow melted.

The last minutes that you had to account for sent your feet kicking up in reflex and sheer pain before Tommy held them down with his leg, shushing you and keeping an even pace with the ticking second hand of the clock. Incapable of moving, you hung slack in Tommy’s grip when he pulled your flushed face up from the desk, his whisper low and hot in your ear.

“What do you say?”

“I’m sorry,” you managed, Tommy’s hand tight on your throat while the other finally finished up with your consequences.

“Good,” Tommy murmured softly, as if he didn’t save his hardest spank for last, his hand wide and unyielding as it bit into you sharply, the cry that left your lips punctuating the final minute you had to pay for.

If it weren’t for Tommy holding you in his grip and keeping you standing you were sure you would have collapsed to your knees, and you were glad that you had his arms to sag into. Running his hand up and down your back while he lifted you into his lap, Tommy leaned against his desk and held you tight so you wouldn’t fall, for your bound hands would do little to catch you. You straddled him and sunk your head into his neck, breathing Tommy in and sniffling, his hand leaving your neck to brush a tear from your cheek while he murmured to you.

A calm you hadn’t felt all day settled over you, forgiven and taken care of, your transgressions a thing of the past. Tommy continued to soothe you, the scent of him and the feeling of his hands on your skin bringing you back to your senses. Although chastised, your lesson certainly learned, you didn’t have shame over the match that had sparked the fire between your legs, its heat spreading further with every heartbeat.

Holding your chin and pulling your head from the crook of his neck, Tommy tilted you upwards until your eyes met his, your hips rolling into his rhythmically, faster by the second.

“Feeling better, princess?” Tommy cooed to you, teasing, moving his hands to your waist, pulling you further onto him. His own breaths came heavier as your wetness soaked the deliciously rough, expensive fabric of his pants, each grind of your clit against them coaxing a sigh from you.

“Yes,” you nodded, letting your lips brush his with every upward, desperate motion.

Tommy growled at the feeling of your lips on his, cupping your chin and kissing you deeply, whiskey-laced tongue rolling over yours. You didn’t know how much time passed before breaths had turned to needy pants between kisses, the fire beginning to die and the room darkening, Tommy’s whispers growing filthier.

“You were such a good girl,” Tommy purred at last, his hand coming between you and his tragically still-clothed cock, rough pads of his fingers rubbing your clit. “Didn’t make a sound, did you?”

Shaking your head was all you could accomplish, your eyes barely registering Tommy’s blowing pupils before they fluttered shut, any sense you had left being turned to dust at the feeling of his fingers against you.

“Come here, princess,” Tommy whispered, standing and letting your legs wrap around his waist, walking you from the desk and easing you both down before the fire, carefully spinning you in his arms and laying you on your stomach, pulling your hips into the air.

The heat from the fire reminded you of the ruby shade upon your ass, the nerves wide awake and burning still. You whimpered in response and Tommy murmured to you softly, running his hands down the backs of your thighs and calves, pressing his lips gently to the redness that his own hand had stirred up, swearing at the sight of your wetness.

“Looks like somebody enjoyed their consequences, eh?” Without another word, Tommy dipped the tips of his fingers into you, tutting and rubbing your entrance before lightly slapping your pussy, your gasps lost under his chiding “Just can’t help it, can you dirty girl?”

Although keeping your hands tied, Tommy didn’t wait for an answer before he intertwined his fingers with yours and buried his face between your legs, his hedonistic groan at the taste of you drowned out by the moan that fell from your own lips, your whole body arching. The hand that Tommy ran lightly over your ass sent a perfect hurt through every piece of you, and the slight shiver of pain only made the feeling of Tommy’s tongue running up and down you that much easier to drown in.

Ravenous yet still able to tease you, Tommy kneeled behind you and flicked his tongue with a cruel lightness, the tip of it barely grazing your clit before kissing down to your entrance, pushing into you just enough to make your hips roll before returning to your clit.

Clenching your teeth, you battled with your already present desire to come, being pushed even further back towards defeat when Tommy began to ravage you in earnest, having swiftly lost patience with teasing. Another moan rolled from his chest, his hand massaging into the flesh of your ass in time with his tongue pushing in and out of you, the fingers he’d wrapped in yours now coming to your clit and rubbing in slow circles.

“Tommy,” you breathed, feet near cramping from your toes curling into the air, the luscious agony of his hand on your ass pushing you over the edge, “Can I-”

“Yes,” Tommy growled, speeding his fingers on your clit and arching his tongue into you, as hungry for you as you were for him.

It didn’t take another second before your orgasm tore through your blood, Tommy’s tongue pushing waves of pleasure across your skin, the moans that echoed them loud but broken, your cries of Tommy’s name no doubt reaching the neighbors.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” Tommy swore, his tongue pushing into you again to drink in every drop he’d wrung from you.

You let your eyes shut and tried to even your breaths, your clit pulsing faintly and your muscles slack with bliss. Flexing your fingers, you silently asked for him, Tommy there in an instant, gently locking his fingers with yours again. Kissing up the rest of your wetness, he dragged his swollen lips over the each bruise his rings had left on your skin before planting kisses up your spine. Tommy pushed your hips down and pulled your face to his, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, your breasts rising off the carpet with his body held above yours, the firm muscles of his chest warm against your back.

The hardness of his cock pressed into you, and you reached for it with your still-tied hands, rubbing your palms up and down his length until you felt Tommy scrape his teeth against your neck. Eager to please him, you pushed your ass up of your own accord, silently beckoning him into you. Tommy smirked at your bound efforts, kissing your cheek and cooing to you as you finally managed to free him from his pants, your hands awkwardly wrapping around his size and beginning to stroke him the best you could.

Tommy’s breaths grew unsteady, occasional rumbles from his chest vibrating your back as you ran your hands up and down the hot silk of him, your pussy tightening in need at having him close enough to fill you. In the haze of your caretaking you’d barely noticed Tommy untie your lingerie from your wrists until he took your hands from him. Squeezing feeling back into their numbness, he brought your hands in front of you while he kissed your neck, holding himself as close to you as he could, veined forearms snaking between you and the floor.

Forehead damp with sweat and pressed against your cheek, Tommy rolled his hips against you, lining himself up with your entrance. Your tightness resisted for only a moment before Tommy pushed inside of you, swearing hotly in your ear and crushing your back to his chest, your lips open in a silent cry.

“Y/N,” Tommy breathed before swearing again, filling you to the brink. Your back arched at the sound, and Tommy’s cock slid impossibly further, a swear - this time in Romani - growled in your ear.

Buried in you completely, Tommy’s restraint pulled taut and broke, a rasping sigh of determination leaving him before he straightened, holding a hand to the back of your neck while pulling your hips up once more with the other, the aching feeling of his length never sliding out an inch.

Although careful to avoid the smarting redness his punishments had left behind, Tommy still fucked you hard, his hands dug into your waist. Curling your nails into the carpet, you nearly smiled at the brutal pace he set, each stroke of his cock sending ecstasy down every nerve, your skin dewy with the heat of the fire, sweat rolling down the arch of your back.

“What time is it?” Tommy demanded, not slowing the pace of his cock slamming into you, the unevenness of his snapping hips telling you he was already breaking at the seams, the sight of you marked and moaning beneath him pushing Tommy towards the edge.

“I don’t know,” you pled, words broken into fragments by Tommy’s speeding thrusts.

“Not the first time today, is it?” he asked evenly, sliding a hand into your hair and pulling your head from the floor, putting at least three different clocks into your vision. “Tell me now, princess, what time is it?”

Even with Tommy’s teeth sinking into the delicate skin of your neck, you still managed to squint over at the golden clock that had been pushed in front of your face not even twenty minutes ago, every rut pushing your eyes forward and back by five seconds.

“Seven fifty-two,” you said proudly, a moan puncutating your sentence.

“Good,” Tommy said, and you recognized more beast than Tommy in his voice, “Now don’t forget what happens to dirty girls who are late.”

With a yank and twist Tommy stood and spun you onto your knees, the sudden emptiness between your legs aching deliciously. Tommy stroked himself onto your face, your mouth automatically opening to catch every drop you could, looking up at his beautifully furrowed brows and parted lips with hungry eyes. Finishing with a groan in his chest, Tommy ran his hand up and down his cock slower and slower until you took him into your mouth, taking your time to clean him off.

“Look at you, naughty thing,” Tommy murmured, watching you finish your efforts.

You hummed in content, the heat of him on your face perfectly complementing the consequences marking your ass, the taste of him on your tongue being everything you wanted to savor. Gently pulling you from him, Tommy tucked himself back into his pants before bending down to lift you into his arms, reaching for the dress he’d tossed onto a chair to carefully clean from your face what you hadn’t salaciously brought to your lips.

Tommy collapsed back on the couch and you curled against him, your arms around his neck. Everything felt new and raw now that the haze of lust and sin had broken, and each bare inch of your skin felt vulnerable, every part of your soul uneasy; you felt more laid bare to Tommy than you had when you were underneath of him.

“I’m sorry,” you said in a small voice, anxiously playing with a button on Tommy’s vest, “about the reports.”

“No more of that,” Tommy murmured in your ear, fingers trailing up and down your spine, his lips pressing into any piece of your skin they could reach, “It’s over, love. It’s alright”

Nodding the best you could buried in his neck, you squeezed your arms tighter around Tommy and breathed, trying to let his touch soothe you. He brought a hand to your hair and smoothed it slowly, pressing his lips to your temple. Holding you tight in his lap, Tommy rocked you back and forth just enough to match the evening of your breaths.

“Nobody else would have remembered at all, eh? And they wouldn’t be done right either,” he said, tickling your ribs with a single finger until you laughed, the sound bringing a nearly-there smile to his face. “You’re my angel, you know that?”

“Mm,” you smiled lazily, running your hand across the velvet of Tommy’s shorter hair, listening to the fires crackles slowly grow quieter behind you. Although tearing away from Tommy’s chest was more than difficult, you forced yourself to anyway. Sitting upright to look at him, you ran your nails lightly across the back of his head as you knew he liked, admiring the blue of his eyes, their color back in full. “I don’t mind what happens when I’m late, however.”

Tommy squinted at you and pinched your side, “Don’t,”

Giggling and pushing kisses against his lips until he chuckled, you settled again into his chest and ignored the persistent stinging of your ass that also hadn’t found humor in your joke, and begged you to be punctual from now on.

“Home?” you said airily, a yawn that knew how to be on time chasing the word out.

“No,” Tommy said with surety, curling you further into the warmth of him, “we’re staying here tonight. Not putting you out in the snow again.”

Sighing with content in silent agreement, you snuggled into Tommy’s chest and breathed him in, letting him hold you tight and make you laugh. Tommy soothed you until the fire died completely and you were nearly asleep in his arms, your worries and his both melted to nothing as the snow piled up outside the windows.


End file.
